


More Than They Bargained For

by Pilesshipper13



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4463135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pilesshipper13/pseuds/Pilesshipper13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard Paul and his MX go to what's supposed to be just a regular routine vandalism, but the pair run into more trouble than they anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than They Bargained For

**Author's Note:**

> I was just browsing Tumblr when I came across this fanart and decided to actually write something (Fanart is here: http://all-for-one-person.tumblr.com/post/81192494061/sir-you-cant-close-your-eyes-right-now-the). So I just cobbled this together in like twenty minutes or so, it's un-beta'd so all mistakes are mine, and I totally just made up any police procedure.

“Come on,” Detective Paul calls, and the MX stands from his accustomed seat and follows the human to the car. The pair had been called to investigate a call about some local kids busting up some windows of a store.

The MX drives silently while the Detective reads the report carefully. “Well, at least no one got hurt,” Detective Paul remarks.

“Affirmative, sir. No civilian injuries were reported,” the MX confirms.

The car rolls to a stop outside of the bakery and the pair gets out. The MX follows the detective into the store, where a patrolman is already there trying to calm down the owner.

“Hi, I’m Detective Paul,” the human introduces himself as he carefully steps over the glass on the floor, hearing it crunch slightly beneath his soles.

“Jason Beakley,” the man nods in their direction, glancing at the imposing MX.

“What happened here, Mr. Beakley,” Detective Paul asks, and the patrolman sees that the man has it under control and makes his exit.

“There were three guys, maybe teenagers, I can’t be sure,” the baker starts. “They had their hoods pulled up and I couldn’t quite catch their faces, but their clothes looked young.”

“What were they wearing,” Detective Paul asks.

“All had black clothes. Hoodies, cargo pants, black shoes,” the man describes. “One had a baseball bat, he was the one who broke the window,” Mr. Beakley gestures to the open space where there used to be glass. “Guess I don’t have any reason not to upgrade to MAX-Plex, now, huh,” the man smiles wryly, referring to the much-tougher glass substitute that has recently cornered the market.

“Do you have any security cameras on the premises,” the Detective asks.

“No, but there’s one across the street,” the owner supplies helpfully. The Detective looks at his MX, who takes the hint and goes to check.  
Detective Paul tries to coax more information out of the man, but he really can’t say anything more. It was too dark, their faces were covered, they took off when he yelled. Detective Paul bites his lower lip, thinking.

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more assistance, Detective,” Beakley apologizes. “Can I cover up the window now,” he asks.

“Yeah,” Paul nods, seeing his MX walk out of the building across the street. “You can clean up the glass, too,” he tells the baker, knowing that would be the next question. “If you think of anything else,” the Detective says, handing him his card.

“I’ll call. Thank you,” Beakley nods.

Detective Paul walks across the street to join his MX, looking up at him. “Any luck,” he asks.

“The owners of this establishment gave me access to the video feed, no warrant needed,” the android replies. “The angle isn’t ideal, but an image of the perpetrators was indeed captured,” the MX reports.

“Put it up,” Paul nods, and the MX projects the image in the air, looking down so that the shorter Detective could see. There’s no sound to the video, but Paul can see three figures clad in black run up to the window and one of them break it with a baseball bat before running away up the street, and Beakley emerge a few moments later, looking in the direction in which they had disappeared. “Let’s see where they went,” Paul nods once the clip ends, starting off in the direction the perps had fled.

“Shall I call for backup,” the MX asks.

“Not yet, let’s see if we can pick up tracks first,” the Detective replies. The MX nods curtly, accepting. The two split up, looking down the alleys on both sides of the street, and Detective Paul is the one who sees a flurry of movement cutting across the far end of an alley first. “Over here,” he calls, and the MX comes running. Both police officers draw their weapons and creep down the alley, crouching slightly. They each take cover behind a wall on opposite ends of the narrow space, and the Detective checks his own side before gesturing for the android to do the same.

“Clear,” the MX intones.

“Split up,” Detective Paul murmurs. “And call for that backup.” The human watches red lights skitter across the MX’s face before he turns and works his way down the left branch-off as the MX takes the right.

The Detective pauses and listens carefully for footsteps, straining his ears, and hears something further along. He hurries to the spot, trying to keep his own noise to a minimum, and sees a dark figure dart into an adjoining alley.

“Stop, police,” Paul bellows, giving chase. He sees the flash of the bat too late.

The assailant brings the bat right across the alley in a powerful swing, and that plus the Detective’s momentum means that the pain across his ribs is immense. He tries to turn and raise his gun, but the criminal just brings his bat down on the Detective’s arm and makes him drop his only defense. Detective Paul swings with his left hand, and his fist makes a satisfying crack when it comes into contact with the guy’s jaw. He makes a grab for his face, throwing his injured body forward and trying to dislodge the hood and mask, but succeeds only in forcing the man against the wall before the assailant throws an elbow in his face. Paul reels backwards, clutching his nose, and the guy hits his ribs again, bringing him down. Paul coughs weakly, trying to turn on his side, but the piercing pain makes him look down, seeing a mess of blood on his lower abdomen.

“Drop your weapon,” a familiar voice orders, and the guy actually does, turning tail and sprinting away. Paul hears the bat hit the ground and bounce before rolling towards him, and he sees blood both on the handle and on the other end. _Good, at least the bastard was bleeding,_ Paul thinks smugly, reaching for the weapon. He sees blood on his arm, too, and his MX crouches beside him, holstering his gun. _From my nose,_ Paul thinks dimly before his MX pulls him into a sitting position, holding him with one hand on his front and one supporting his back. Paul can dully feel one of the MX’s knees against his lower back, and reaches out to the other leg to grab onto something.

“I called the paramedics as soon as I heard you command the suspect to stop, calculating a 98.677% probability that the suspect wouldn’t surrender peacefully,” the MX informs the Detective, even as the human grimaces at the pain of the MX’s hand pressing against his belly. “I must keep pressure on,” the MX notes, in way of apology, and in the back of his mind, Paul knows that the MX is trying to not let his ribs do any more damage- he assumes that the bones are broken and might even be sticking out from his skin a bit, but can’t bring himself to look.

“Sir, you can’t close your eyes right now,” the MX orders, and Paul wrenches them open, not realizing they had been slowly drifting shut. He has to stay awake. He can’t go to sleep, even though it’s calling him. He’s gotta- Paul slowly looks up at the face of his MX, his vision starting to fade in and out. “The paramedics will arrive in three minutes,” the MX informs him. _Not soon enough,_ Paul distantly thinks.

The pain is fading now, that has to be good right? But his MX is fading, too, the emotionless voice sounding further away. He tries to fight his way back towards it, but the pain flares up again and he retreats. The lights on the MX’s face are getting duller, the red fading. “You must keep awake until then.” It sounds like his MX decided to go for a swim and is trying to speak from the bottom of a lake. Silly MX. He can’t talk underwater. The Detective wants to stay awake, really he does. But his eyes are getting heavy, and it’s like the tension is leaving him, and he feels like if he closes his eyes right now, he can go to sleep and sleep as long as he wants and no one will wake him. That sounds good, it’s the end of shift anyway. He just needs sleep…

“Sir,” the MX questions, seeing the Detective’s eyes close. He has to do something. “Richard,” he asks, calculating that the usage of his first name will get him back. The Detective cracks his eyes open again, looking unseeingly up at him. The MX checks again on the timing of the paramedics, and the Detective’s eyes look at the lights on his face. The MX does it again, running calculations, anything to keep the Detective focused. The MX can hear sirens now. “Richard, the paramedics are here now, they will take you to the hospital,” he informs his partner, whose heartbeat is so slow and breathing is so shallow that the MX is starting to worry, as much as an MX can, seeing the probability of survival rapidly decreasing with each passing moment. “Detective, just hold on. You have to hold on.”

Richard closes his eyes, hearing far-away sirens and remembering what it was like to want to be a cop. He thinks he hears a familiar voice somewhere, telling him to hold on. Hold on to what?

 

The first thing Richard becomes aware of is pain. He hisses at it, but the motion of his lungs just makes it worse. The second thing he notices is the infernal beeping. The Detective slowly opens his eyes, finding it difficult due to how gummy and heavy they feel, but the stubborn man manages it anyway. He sees a bandage at the edge of his vision, and tries to raise his right arm to feel it. The arm feels heavier than he’s used to, and he slowly turns his head to see it in a cast.

 _The alley,_ Richard’s medicated brain remembers, and he glances down to see the damage. He’s shirtless and his belly is wrapped in clean white bandages. He can feel pajama pants on his legs and wonders dully who dressed him. Richard then takes stock of any IVs. He has one in his left arm, which is surprisingly unharmed from the attack. He also sees the source of the annoying beeping- a monitor by his head. He gingerly touches his face with his left hand, feeling soft gauze on his nose. _That better not be broken,_ he gripes.

Assured that he’ll live, the Detective looks around his room. There are several bouquets of flowers and fruit baskets, and more stuffed animals and balloons than he’s think he’s seen since his kid’s last birthday party. A dark spot at the far end of his room catches his attention, and he focuses on that. His MX is standing there, stripped of his weapons. “You just gonna stand there,” he asks. Or tries to, anyway. His throat is so dry that he can’t really produce words, only a frightening rasp and groan.

“You are awake,” the android remarks, marching forward and reaching for the control to the bed that the Detective had been patting around for, bringing the man slowly into an inclined position. The Detective points to a water pitcher, and the MX pours him a glass and carefully helps the human drink it in thirsty gulps.

“How long,” Richard asks, at least understandable now.

“Three days, seven hours, twenty-seven minutes,” the MX reports.

“Water,” the Detective moves his fingers again, and the MX refills the glass and helps him again. It takes two more glasses before the Detective feels almost human again. “What’s the damage,” he asks.

“Severely bruised nose, four broken ribs, two of which punctured your left lung, one that was protruding from your abdomen, two more fractured ribs and a broken radius,” the MX catalogs.

“At least my nose isn’t broken, and I’m a lefty anyway,” Paul muses. “How long have you been here,” the detective asks of the android.

“I haven’t left,” the MX says promptly.

“You’ve been standing at the foot of my bed for three days,” Paul questions, raising his eyebrows.

“Affirmative.”

“Must have given the nurses one hell of a scare,” he remarks.

“The nurses were indeed somewhat threatened by my presence, but I assured them that I would cause them no harm,” the MX nods.

“How’s your charge,” Paul asks.

The MX pauses, lights dancing on the side of his face. “86.32% capacity, sir,” he reports.

“How have you been charging?”

“Dr. Lom brought along a generator,” the MX gestures at the wall, and the Detective can see a black box-like shape plugged into the wall, with the chord that Paul assumes plugs into the android somewhere that’s neatly coiled right now.

“Have you caught the bastards,” Paul growls, and the MX turns his eyes to him again.

“Yes, Detective Stahl and her MX tracked down the three adolescent males responsible for the vandalism, including the one who assaulted you. He’s been charged with attempted murder of a police officer.”

“Good,” Paul remarks, resting his head against his pillows. “One more thing.”

“Yes, Detective?”

Detective Richard Paul turns his head to look at his android and smiles a little. “You called me ‘Richard,’ really?”


End file.
